The slight of frame brindle wasn’t shy when it came to returning Dropout’s anger – his words were powerful catalysts that set her surging forward, absolutely intent to tear him limb from limb. He could not have been chosen by Rhode, he hadn’t been trained by the previous ‘Don’ – she had! She and useless Sideswipe, who’d never been a true contender in the first place. This was her pack, her battle to fight and her goddamn right to intervene! Her snarl, in the midst of purring from her lean jaws, caught in her throat: Kotor’s thick body cut her off from her brother’s unprotected back. In surprise she was silenced, but as she obeyed the automatic reaction to sink into a cat-like, predatory crouch, it was evident that she had not been assuaged in the least. Rather, her navy eyes flashed, adopting the electricity of a lightning storm, and held the eyes of her new prey. Those who got in her way learned the hard way that it wasn’t a good idea. The notion that he was denying her what she wanted, and acknowledging it verbally, pushed her to a throaty growl that seemed more forceful than the one she’d threatened him with upon their last encounter.

She didn’t know who was most furious at anymore – Dropout for taking her rightful place in the limelight, Acheron for reaching him first, or Kotor for denying her the feeling of their flesh in her jaws. Before she could shoulder past Kotor and go after the new intruder, whom she decided she would target first, he engaged with her sibling. She had no intention of interfering now – quickly absorbed in battle, she grew rigid at Kotor’s front. He seemed to have escaped from her radar for now, because her eyes faded to an intensely calculating leer. In that moment she prayed for Dropout, because if the ash colored intruder died at his jaws then he no longer warranted her wrath. If Dropout were to die however, and she was denied the privilege to murder the second of two dogs she’d deeply despised . . .

The fight was a blur of fur and blood, and Dropout toppled, dead, in the end. It took a moment for her to process this – she stared, remarkably blank, at his body as his eyes glazed over.

Then she donned a near demonic snarl, her face demented and hellish with rage. Her muzzle wrinkled deeply as she bared as much of her gum as she could – Backflip’s jaws parted to allow a guttural snarl to gurgle out, and her tail rose over her back into a fine exclamation point of alarm. Without considering that almost all the dogs present had made their distaste for Dropout obvious, she lunged for the side of Kotor’s face with the speed and unexpectedness of a viper, though her aim hadn’t been well practiced – it was merely a distraction. She feinted to the right, the skidded into a sharp turn around his left side that cleared her of his obscuring figure. Acheron was in clear sight, a sitting duck and an injured one at that . . . she couldn’t let another opportunity slip away.

She was smaller, younger, definitely lighter, but she was stronger. She had to be. Letting the new leader walk away with her crown would mean the death of her faith in balance. Some mongrel off the street couldn’t simply walk all over her weakling brother to take something that had never belonged to him in the first place! She was entitled to a chance at what she’d worked so hard to achieve, to a chance at something she had once been guaranteed and then forbidden! The slender blue eyed wildcat flexed into action before anyone else could interrupt, her body shifting into short lived movement. She cleared the gap between them in a single bound, leapt over her still bleeding brother, as though she were his avenging ghost. Her forelimbs spread wide in preparation to encompass Acheron’s neck, and her gleaming, needle-like teeth were bared to match the harsh noises still escaping her, a mixture of ragged breathing, growling, and howling curses that had no name.

Why did all these useless interlopers seem to make a point of destroying everything she desired! Rhode had been denied her his approval, when all she’d ever done was obey and triumph in each of his challenges. Sideswipe had cut the one thread of life she’d been training to snip since her mid year anniversary and denied her satisfaction of the old brindle’s blood. Dropout had laid claim to the one thing that would have proven to Rhode that she was all to capable of equaling – no, besting him! even in death. He would have felt her glory radiating down into the deepest pits of hell.

This nobody wouldn’t slake the rites of victory – not while she still breathed! Through her petite stature and habitually sassy nature, she was daunting now. Her ferocity undermined her disadvantages, and though Acheron had proven some prowess through the defeat of Dropout, she was better. She wanted it more. She had nothing to live for but the moment that brought her teeth to his neck, which was where they snapped unerringly despite her blinding fury. She grasped for a mouthful of tough jugular tissue, able only to taste previously spilt blood on his fur from the fight seconds past, and clenched her teeth. She was hopelessly lost in the moment of pure savage pleasure whilst she imagined him dropping into the cold clutches of death, and her subconscious prayed for this one action to go smoothly. The disappointment in lieu of another failure would be too much to take.